


Fine

by Findarato



Category: Messiah Project - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Porn, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things happen. Eiri thinks too much, and Haku…is Haku. Blame the candy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The Messiah Project is not my creation.  
>  **Spoilers:** Movie and first stage play. Set before the second stage play.  
>  **Rating:** M/R  
>  **Warnings:** mentioned violence, some swearing, angst, barely-there smut that I call emotional porn. Too much candy.

**Fine**

Eiri sometimes wonders.

This whole Messiah business…it had the potential to be either the best thing or the worst thing. More often than not, it seemed to work out. People went on their final mission, they graduated, and that was that. Was the term symbiosis or co-dependency? Or neither? It's not that he can't work with other people. Loners got shit done, but partnerships meant someone watching your back. He's not unfamiliar with teamwork and all the mechanics of it. So as long as they didn't get in his way.

In terms of fighting, Haku's great. They communicate, they work it out, they succeeded…it's almost like a normal job. But normal people sharing a job don't share a room. Normal people don't see each other for almost 24/7. Normal people don't know details that you left had home when you went to work.

For example, he knows just how many kinds of candy that Haku has eaten over the years. The varieties of juices. He knows that in a day, Haku can consume ten packets of candy, and that five juiceboxes are only a minimum. That's only the tip of the iceberg, too. He hasn't even gotten into the laundry habits…the disaster in the drawers…

Ultimately, Eiri knows more about Haku than he wants to, and Haku probably knows more about him than he realises. But after Sakura, after the Church…

What do you do these those details? He's gotten so used to yelling at someone, to brush their teeth or to sort their clothes, to cleaning up and even keeping track of just how many pairs of socks Haku has (and has lost). Those details…he'd have to leave them behind once they're done, aren't they?

He didn't think much about this before, until he realised just how much Haku is a staple in his life. He's used to rolling over and seeing another person. Or if he's walking and looking up, a juicebox in his face. The arm that props itself on his shoulder. A hand gestured out to him.

They're a few years away from graduation; Souma and Shuusuke's are coming up—maybe that's why it's been weighing on his mind. He'd heard rumours about some people breaking down during or before it, because of the strain. Sometimes you assume you're too comfortable, too confident, and it all fractures during the crucial moments. Haku could've graduated this year, too, if not for losing his first Messiah.

…he thinks too much about Haku, doesn't he? Tonight, he slams his book shut and shoves it half under his pillow as he closes his eyes. So much for reading; the past half hour has been nothing but his thoughts.

Haku looks up from unwrapping yet another box of fruit-flavoured candy. _Something wrong?_

Eiri gives him a faint head-toss and waves his hand dismissively. _It's nothing._

**.**

Two days later, he catches a cold. The shitty, disgusting kind that leaves you coughing and tired and all you want to do is sleep. Probably the week of cold rain and wind and a mission that dragged on. He's hardly a stranger to colds, but they're annoying. The last time he had a cold he locked Haku out the room (hey, he threw a blanket and pillow out, along with a whole cardboard box of Haku's food. He's not going to leave his Messiah with nothing) and slept for nearly a day before he felt fine.

This time, Haku didn't let him. Eiri supposes he got lucky before, catching Haku when he was out. Haku has that height on him, and shoving him outside their room is an impossibility.

"At least move your bed to the far side of the room." He sneezes into the crook of his arm. "I'm going to make you sick."

"What if I don't want to move?"

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm _telling_ you to." _Just listen to me this once, Haku._ He scrabbles for the box of tissues, and finds that it's empty. "Because I don't need you sick—"

Haku holds out a new box, just slightly out of reach.

"Haku!"

"I'll give to you when you stop trying to make me move."

He'll wipe his nose on his sleeve then, and wash the shirt when he's better. But that thought makes him groan in disgust…he really can't. No.

"Fine. Stay. Get sick." He forces himself to sit up and snatch a few tissues before flopping back down. "But it's not going to make me go out and buy you your stuff." He expects some retort, but Haku merely sets the box now next to his pillow, in easy reach.

…well. That's…that's okay.

He coughs and turns his head. When he closes his eyes, the dry, hot, brittle feeling is there behind his eyelids, burning down the back of his neck and shoulders, to the dull ache in his throat every time he swallows. He's feverish, his head is stuffy, everything hurts, and he just wants to sleep if he could properly breathe long enough through his nose—

"Eiri."

"What?"

A juicebox in his face and he leans back, hackles rising. "I don't want your—mmn!"

He can't believe it, the straw's shoved in his mouth and he's batting at Haku's hands. Of all the times—

"Just drink. It's lemonade."

Rarely does Haku use a commanding tone, and it gives him pause. "Lemonade?"

"It'll help with your throat."

"Ah." Does it? He sips begrudgingly, head turned a little so he can swallow and not have to sit up. The sweet-sour tang is sharp, piercing his dulled senses. It's the first thing he's been able to taste since he got sick and it's a relief to have something wasn't bland. Meanwhile he's trying to remember if lemonade is really a thing people with colds would drink (wasn't it supposed to be lemon and honey?) but he drinks probably half of it before he realises it. Haku holds the carton steady, until Eiri pulls away.

"…thank you."

"You're welcome." Haku raises the box to his face, and Eiri sits up.

"What are you doing!" he snatches the box out of the other's hands.

"I thought you were done."

"I'm _sick_."

"So?"

He stares up incredulously. Does Haku have a lack of self-preservation?

So he drinks the rest of the lemonade before dropping it in the wastebasket next to his bed. "It'll make you sick."

Then again, they said idiots didn't catch colds. Maybe Haku would be fine. Or maybe not. He might catch it and end up even sicker than Eiri is right now…

…it's too tiring to think. He flicks his fingers at Haku. "Just keep away. And don't touch me."

He pulls the blankets over his head. Dealing with himself sick is tiring as it is. Haku sick…that would be worrisome. Besides water and maybe lemon-flavoured water…what else were you supposed to do?

The click of a door causes him to poke his head out. So Haku really did leave? That's really for the better. He stifles another sneeze and brushes his fingers about for more tissue.

Kaidou Eiri, laid low by a cold. It's the twenty-first century. Why haven't they invented a way to banish stupid illnesses? Everyone would benefit, and epidemics would be a thing of the past. Whose idea was it anyway for people to get sick. He closes his eyes and tries counting backwards from one hundred in Russian, in hopes of falling asleep.

He's only up to seventy-six before the door opens and Haku's back. He doesn't open his eyes, not until Haku's footsteps fall next to his bed.

"What?"

Haku holds out a washcloth. Damp, it looks like. He's also holding a bowl.

Eiri looks from Haku's hands to his face, perplexed.

Haku looks as if he's about to say something, but instead he crouches on the ground next to Eiri's bed. "Can you sit up?"

Of course he can. There's no nausea anyway. He still has a mind to tell Haku to remove himself to sit at the other side of the room, but he pushes himself up, muscles protesting. What he doesn't expect is Haku pressing the cloth to the back of his neck. It's cold and he flinches.

And then the cold eases the tense ache between his shoulders. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it. It's only a few minutes; Haku runs the cloth over the rest of his neck, pausing to wring it out, before wiping his face. The coolness distracts from the heat that's sitting inside him, and even his eyelids don't seem to burn.

Vague memories of his mother have returned, and he remembers doing this for his sister.

But it's not the same, you doing it yourself and another person doing it for you.

A finger brushes by his cheek, stirring him out of memories, but pushing him into newer ones. The only time Haku's ever touched his face was when he was down and wounded, his head supported on Haku's knee.

That's still a little too fresh, and he closes his eyes. He lets Haku presses him back down, and then the cloth is laid over his forehead.

Is this something Messiahs did as well? Just how far did things fall under the "I'm your Messiah" umbrella? He wonders if anyone had made it through graduation without seeing the other person as more than just an acquaintance.

The crinkle of plastic makes him open his eyes once again; Haku has settled next to his bed, legs stretched as he stabs his straw into the little carton.

"You shouldn't stay there."

Haku merely looks at him, before speaking around his straw. "Do you want to try getting me to leave?"

He snorts, a smile twisting at the side of his mouth. "I'll have more luck at killing someone than that."

The other puts out a hand to keep the cloth from falling, and for a moment, it feels as if those fingers would be resting on his head. But Haku moves away in seconds, and Eiri watches as the hand slips down, resting on a knee. He blames whatever thoughts he has on this fever as he is drawn into sleep.

The inside of his mouth still tastes like lemon, when he swallows.

**.**

The taste follows him.

He finds himself buying a tin can of lemon drops, dusted in sugar. Opening it whenever he thinks of it. Rolling a drop around in his mouth. He's not even sick anymore but he keeps the tin underneath his bed. Is it good luck? He's not superstitious but he finds himself taking one before they leave, the sourness coating his tongue.

Haku doesn't point this out, though Eiri is sure he knows about it. There's always been an attention to detail, to facts, and a very exacting memory. It took him a while but he does understand why Haku barely throws anything away. Why there's an odd collection of paperclips piling up in a drawer. Hell, he thinks if Haku's allowed, they'd have a bunch of kittens in their room. So he steps over the piles of juiceboxes, and every week, their compromise is that he's allowed to toss out twenty boxes. There haven't ever been any ants or cockroaches, for which he's thankful for.

He stares down at the little round tin, gold-coloured and made of cheap metal. Some of the sugar has melted, and the pieces stick together. Why is the taste so appealing? His mouth waters when he thinks about them, and even as he looks down, he finally plucks one out to pop into his mouth.

Maybe it's catching, Haku's love for candy. But Haku hadn't even given candy—had been lemonade.

"Haku."

"Mm?" The other speaks around a mouthful of candy—chocolate, it looks like.

"Why the candy?"

The loud snap of teeth against candy is like a gunshot.

"People eat candy for its taste."

"I know that. I'm asking why you eat it so much. People normally don't do this—" He gestures at the table, the floor, and Haku's bed.

"Because I like candy?"

" _Haku_."

Only then does he see that Haku is twisting a wrapper so tightly that it's threatening to rip, and he almost regrets asking.

"It makes me happy." _Snap_. Another square of chocolate is gone. "It's for good memories."

"Good memories?"

"They remind me of my brother."

"…oh." The word hangs off his tongue, and he shakes his head a little. "Forget I asked."

"He'd spend so much on it, just to share it with me." Haku finally tosses the wrapper aside, and swallows after chewing. "Jelly beans are my favourite."

Really?

But Haku never seems to be eating them.

Still, Eiri doesn't think he can ask anymore without intruding. Issues are odd like that. Only months ago, so many things had come to light, and broken them. But not the whole story.

Then again, he hasn't really let Haku know the entirely of his own past. Who'd want to hear about a kid getting picked up by a gang and the shitty years spent during that time being called trash, even as they honed his skills?

Wordlessly, he holds out his tin of lemon drops to Haku.

_I shouldn't have asked._

His Messiah plucks out a piece, his thumb brushing over Eiri's. Their eyes meet.

_It's okay._

Lemon drops, he suddenly finds, are oddly great at catching light, and seeing Haku licking the sugar off before he pops it into his mouth is something Eiri won't be forgetting for a while.

**.**

…make that several weeks.

Usually Eiri doesn't care what Haku does with his food. Haku's always eating…or drinking. But lately, he's been picking up on how fast Haku unwraps some sweet with just one hand, or how his lips press over the straw. Or how sometimes Haku dangles his juicebox in his mouth while his hand are doing something else.

He's past the age of eighteen. For crying out loud, this shouldn't be a problem. Attractions happen, but he's known Haku for…a year? Anyway, long enough that this shouldn't be happening.

But it's suddenly as if there was a switch flipped on. There were dreams. There were thoughts. And was Haku, smack in the middle of it all and he doesn't understand.

When Haku gets chocolate on fingers and casually licks it off, he hurriedly puts his eyes back on his book. Or tries. It's not working.

_Sakura members will not become friends or lovers—with the exception of your own Messiah._

He knows it's a thing. It didn't need much more explaining than that. People were…well, discreet about it. No pointing fingers, no accusations. What happened, happened. That's not the problem here. The problem is that he didn't think he'd consider this, for himself.

Haku, who set so many personalised alarms in the morning. Who teased him. Jostled him around at times. Left trash everywhere. Slurped his juice loudly when Eiri tries to read.

Annoying, that's what Haku is.

But the missions—they were in tandem, they were one. They had unspoken signals he didn't even really remember discussing. They were good together.

In that sense.

And Haku was the one who carried him after he'd been shot.

_'I won't die on you, Haku. I promise.'_

Kaidou Eiri is good at not dying. Some gods had their hand on him…or something. He's pulled through…three times now? It didn't mean that didn't hurt, but you can't have everything.

He just knows he doesn't want to hear Haku use that tone of voice ever again—the frantic pleading, the shakiness…no, he'll take Haku's antics over that. Any day.

But between dying and lying…was it all nothingness? They did well, they're fine…

…mostly fine.

Right?

This afternoon finds him staring at the plastic bag at the foot of his bed. If he shifts even the tiniest bit, it crackles. How Haku manages to sleep among a million wrappers and not be uncomfortable is short of a phenomenon.

Speaking of Haku, his Messiah is currently hanging off his bed and tossing caramel chocolates into his mouth. Another day, another mission completed…

When Eiri moves, his foot hits the bag and it slithers to the floor with loud crinkling noises, and a bag of candy falls out.

Haku looks at it.

Then at Eiri.

Um, shit.

"You never buy them, but you said they were your favourite…" his voice trails off as he picks up the bag and rips it open, revealing the jellybeans. "So I got them for you."

He holds it out.

Haku says nothing, but he leans over to take a handful, catching Eiri's look.

_You wanted someone else to buy them for you, didn't you?_

_You wanted to remember what that was like, someone going out of their way to do something for you, without expecting anything back except a thank you._

They're never going to speak of Haku's brother. At least, not a full conversation that was more than mentions. But he's fine with that. He can understand a memory, something you wanted to be untainted by grief. It's the same reason he never talks about his sister or his parents.

He glances away, and lowers the bag.

"Eiri."

"What?"

Haku holds out his hand. _Want one?_

It's something he's done plenty of times. They'd be sitting at breakfast, and Haku would offer a biscuit. Or his juicebox. And probably every day, his candy. And without fail, he turns it down. Its unsanitary, it's been lying in a wrapper, it's been on his bed…

Then why does Eiri reach over and pluck out a jellybean from Haku's hand? Is he overanalysing candy now? Is candy now some metaphor for acceptance?

Of course, the jellybean he takes has to be lemon and it's discomfiting. He can't get away from it, can he. Still, he rolls it in his mouth until it dissolves, and then it dawns upon him that Haku has been staring at him while eating.

…

"Haku—" he begins, and stops. Something not right…

But no, that's not the word for this. Something is _different_.

"Eiri." Usually, Haku says his name firmly, both syllables accented in the same way. And he still does, but he has never heard his name spoken that quietly.

Haku is offering him another piece of candy. The sight of it, nestled between two fingers…

It beckons to him.

What the hell, it's just his Messiah holding a jellybean.

Then he does he find himself leaning, straining, until he can touch Haku's hand with his nose, until their eyes meet.

He's not even sure what he's asking, or what Haku is really offering, but he's opening his mouth and letting Haku press it against his tongue. Fingers brush by his lips, and he's biting down and tasting cinnamon…and a hint of caramel.

That's not from the jellybean.

"Haku." He tries again, and falters.

Something is squeezing his head, his throat, his stomach…his heart…

He reaches out, and their hands bump against each other, but the next instant he finds his fingers curling in Haku's shirt.

When he kisses Haku, hands twisting, he can taste melted sugar that's nearly overpowering. It's almost sickly sweet—but Haku kisses back, tongue flicking against his lips before pressing to the corner of his mouth, and he forgets.

Is this how people usually did it? Did other Messiahs end up like this? He has no idea. All he knows is that underneath all the candy and the sugar—there is Haku. He's kissing his Messiah and it's _good_.

In the precarious position he's in, he nearly falls but Haku is pushing him back, half-standing, half-kneeling. Curse him and his convenient height, but even that usual annoyance slides away when Haku makes a sound that sends something rushing down his back.

They pull away, briefly. He licks his lips and notices how hot his neck feels, and how he's almost light-headed.

_Was this okay?_

Haku tips his head, crouching down and resting his hands on his knees. "Is that it?"

"What?"

"Is that it?"

He gapes, stumbles, and there's a long pause before he finally gathers his words again. "I…I don't know?"

"You don't?" Haku's lips curve downwards. "That was going somewhere interesting."

_I don't think interesting is the word for this…_

Eiri rubs that back of his neck. "I mean, do you want to go on?"

That question isn't even worded properly…god, this is all getting messed up.

"We could continue. Or—" Haku eyes the bag of jellybeans. "We could finish that."

"You're going to give yourself a stomach ache."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will."

"Nope." Haku reaches for it.

"I said no!" Eiri moves to slap his hand away, but instead, he finds it grabbed.

Haku looks up at him, a rarity because he's usually taller. "Make me."

That's fine.

So he kisses him again, this time digging his tongue between their lips and pressing to teeth until Haku relents, and his lips are actually hurting from being pressed.

This is nothing like movies, or what he's overheard when he was in the gang, and he's heard plenty. About how loud you're supposed to be, how it's supposed to be sloppy and wet. But all he can hear is his own pulse and the sound of his jaw, and maybe the click of their teeth. He keeps swallowing and there's really nothing too messy…

…they didn't mention how your partner sticks their hands in your hair, or how you're supposed to rest your hands on a pair of shoulders. They didn't say that you end up both shoving and clinging, and how hard it is to breath when your noses are squashed and he's going cross-eyed. Certainly they don't mention how something builds in your chest and sits there, hammering and thudding until you realise where this is all going—

Eiri pulls away abruptly, mashing his hand over his mouth as he breathes, until the painful thudding eases, but he's shuddering and he's not even sure why.

The only thing he's sure of is that he wants Haku. He doesn't know everything but Haku is there and there is a wanting that is so terrible it feels more like a need. He wants Haku to understand things that he never knows how to say, why he bought that candy. Why he cares. Yes, he yells at Haku about stupid things, but if they are ever again in that situation they were in only a few months ago, he'd still do what he did. He'll get himself shot, because he'll live.

He won't die.

He won't leave Haku behind.

But just how much does Haku want from him?

Half-conscious, he'd been aware of Haku shouting his name, the hands shaking him and later supporting him, the tears…but in a matter of days, they were back to normal. Like nothing had changed.

Is he the only one that feels like things are never going to be the same? Or just how much did caring even go.

"Sorry," he mutters; he spaced out for a while, didn't he. "I'm getting ahead of myself."

"I'm not sorry."

"…no?"

"Yeah." Haku stands and crosses his arms. "We're Messiahs."

Eiri tries to gauge his expression, struggles, and gives up. "So you're saying that because we're Messiahs, this is natural?" He shakes his head. "That's not the point."

This isn't necessary. It's not a duty. They're allowed, but that didn't mean they had to. Or wanted to. "I shouldn't have…kissed you." The words slip out rather loudly and he cringes; sometimes, he doesn't intentionally yell. It just…happens. "I should have asked first."

Haku's lips, usually pink, are red and he can't seem to stop looking at them. His own lips, when he closes them, still have the sensation of something on them.

Just because he wants something didn't mean Haku wants it…or needs it.

He blinks, then inhales as deeply as can, eyes on his hands. "You can finish the jellybeans if you want. I'm going to—"

"Eiri."

"What?" He looks up; something in Haku's voice is asking for that.

And Haku is there, mouth covering his as he leans down, supporting himself on Eiri's shoulders.

There's less sugar and more Haku, now. Eyelids flutter and shut, for a few seconds. He tenses and relaxes, and ends up straightening his back when his Messiah exhales against him, and he forgets how to breathe.

"I'm okay with this," Haku says when they pause. He shakes his hair out of his eyes. "Because you're my Messiah."

At this point, he's still catching his breath. "That's not my point. My point is…"

"If I love you?"

Something makes him lock his shoulders. "Something like that."

This is love? Is that it? Love, a desire that's pretty much as old as time and has caused so many fuck-ups in man's history, and this is what it is? Is this the feeling?

"What if I told you I do?"

"What?" It's his turn to look up; dammit, Haku, get down to his height. "Me?"

Haku raises an eyebrow, as if to say, "is there anyone else in this room?"

He nearly yanks on his hair out of exasperation. There's too much he wants to say and too much he needs to make clear. Why are his words failing him?

The pressure of a hand on his knee brings him back, and he nearly bites his tongue.

"Do you really?"

Haku looks disappointed. "I thought my kiss wasn't a bad one…"

"No, no, it was gr—" too late, he realises Haku's intention. "Haku!" he shoves him, even as he flushes hot again. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"So was I." The other grips his shoulder. "Eiri, you make me happy."

Him, who constantly shouts at Haku, makes him happy?

"Yeah, you can stand to be a little quieter, but I don't mind it when you tell at me to pick up my things or when you tell me to go brush my teeth, or eat food first before my sweets." He sits down next to Eiri, the bed dipping under their combined weight. "I don't want to lose you, like I did my other Messiahs."

"You're not going to lose me."

"I almost did." And Haku's voice slides into a quieter tone. "I thought I was going to."

Fingers curl around his; he doesn't pull away.

"You're not going to put me through that again, are you?"

"No." He shakes his head for emphasis.

"You won't die because of me, will you?"

"Of course not. You're not…" he stops.

"Cursed?" When Haku shrugs, it looks as if his whole body shifts with him. "Maybe, maybe not. But my record of two Messiahs dying is still unbroken."

"Haku…"

"I'd like to think that you broke the curse." And he grins, cheekily. "Like one of those princes in those fairy-tales."

" _What_." All right, that deserves a shove, and Haku is flopping on his bed, laughing. "You're too tall to be a princess."

…so, that's not he was intending to say, but what else _could_ he say?

Haku's laughter subsides, once again replaced by a serious tone that he usually doesn't use. "You always complained about being my Messiah. You always asked 'why are we Messiahs? Day after day you annoy me and I'm so sick of it', but you never asked to be switched." A pause. "You stayed."

The pattern of his comforter suddenly looks very interesting. "I said I wouldn't die on you."

_I won't leave you._

"That's why I love you."

 _Goddamnit._ Oh look, there's a flower, a leaf…he follows the lines of the blanket with his eyes as hard as he can.

"Eiri."

Swallowing hard, he looks at Haku. Gosh, he's taking up more than half of his bed, lying there like that and confessing. It's almost ridiculous.

"What about you?"

"Me? I—" he'd clasp his hands together, but one of his hands is still in Haku's.

Is this really okay?

In his life, he's lost everything, once. People that barely gave a fuck about him picked him up, but they taught him a few things, at least. But once it was over, they were ready to leave him out to die until Sakura found him. Yay, he's useful again. He's useful to the guy who kept losing his Messiah, because he can't seem to die. A perfect match. That's the only reason he's recycled. That's the only reason people ever cared to pick him out of the trash.

But Haku?

When was the last time someone ran to his side when he was injured? When was the last time someone was actually concerned, for him?

Messiah looked out for each other, yes, but Haku…

He wets his lips. "Yeah." A little too quietly, but he's afraid if he says it any louder, this might end up being a dream or something. "I love you. Too."

There.

He said it.

Eiri expects Haku to grin, to say something to break this mood.

He doesn't anticipate getting yanked down so that his nose nearly hits Haku's shoulder, and he's reminded of the time Souma walked in on Haku poking at him under the blankets. Yet, there's nothing teasing or humouring in Haku's eyes right now. No, that's something else; that's…gentleness?

"Glad to hear that, Eiri."

And he's being kissed again, but it's different from before. The hands on his arms are hot, hotter than his body; his mind jumps and he wrests its back to the present, heart pounding and senses on edge.

Not, this isn't panic. But this emotion, he doesn't have a word for, but he doesn't want to feel it, so he pushes it down by kissing back until his vision is encompassed by flashing lights.

"Eiri—" Haku squeezes one arm under him and throws the other one over his shoulder.

_…what is he doing…_

"I got you."

The hell, he's supposed to be the mature one here. He's supposed to have things under control. He's supposed to control his own emotions. He realises that he's been shuddering and…this is a hug?

…Yes, it's a hug.

_I got you._

His mind whispers it to him; he presses his forehead into Haku's shoulder, hands unclenching until he can finally lay one on Haku's waist (it's the furthest he can wrap his hand).

_Yeah, you got me._

That's the thought when hands start wandering and when he's trying to pull Haku's shirt off him without choking him. That's the thought when Haku fumbles with his belt and he has to help him out, and they pause before they remove their socks (it just seemed silly to leave them on). And yes, that's the thought when he glances towards the door, to make sure it's locked, before Haku switches the light off and they're left in semi-darkness.

It's not he assumes he's incapable of falling in love, nor that sleeping with his Messiah is an impossibility. He just didn't understand, before, how it could work

…maybe it's not like this for everyone. Who wakes up in the morning and yells their Messiah as the first of every day's agenda? Who cleans up masses of candy wrappers and empty juiceboxes? Probably only them.

But, as long as he lives, no is ever going to know that Haku's kisses seem to always carrying a taste of caramel. They're not going to feel his hands caressing every inch, lingering over sensitive areas. They won't know how the lightest of tongues can bring him to a threshold over and over again until his sheets stick to him from his writhing and his hair is poking him in his eyes, or how his arm and hand muscles ache from clenching and unclenching.

The experience of Haku, breathing his name like some litany while touching him, or the look in his eyes when he takes Eiri's fingers in his mouth…that belongs to them.

"Ha—" Eiri coughs, breathes, and manages. Sometimes if you think too much about one thing, it gets stuck and threatens to break your heart. "Haku."

"Mhm?"

"Here." He yanks at Haku. "Up." His grasp on speech is so great right now, isn't it.

When Haku moves, he resents, for one second, their height differences and just how easily Haku drapes over him. Then he admits it's not really that bad. Haku isn't heavy, for all his height.

"I'm here, Messiah~"

"Shut up." He knocks his nose into Haku's hair. "We're not done."

Haku's laughter next to his neck makes him shiver. "No, we're not."

It's…strangely vulnerable, being on your back with someone on top and they're staring down at you. Exposed. Unguarded.

His Messiah has him. Besides, Haku has seen him in pain _and_ half-dead, so this is definitely an improvement over that.

They're together.

They're together when he bites down on Haku's shoulder and nails are digging into his back. He's there when Haku grinds their hips together. Haku's there when he kisses him, and this time, yes, it's messy and when they hit an apex, he doesn't want to be with anyone else or anywhere else. He likes feeling how Haku's arches underneath his hands, though he silently apologises for roughly scrabbling with his fingernails, but the death grip on his shoulder and the teeth leaving marks on his collarbones tells him that his Messiah probably feels the same.

"Haku." He loves him, he really does. Can you hear it, Haku, in how he says your name?

The other smoothes at his hair, indistinctly because his eyes are as blurry as Eiri's and it seems like they've lost the ability for talking. Then Haku kisses him, one more time. Softer, but with the same care like before.

_Eiri._

He probably has the stupidest grin on his face, but who's judging them? He tucks himself against Haku, against warmth that's better than blankets.

"Well…" Haku smoothes at his hair, his fingers moving unhurriedly and Eiri wonders how he's able to do that without faltering. "That didn't take forever."

"Oh, shut it." A light jab to the side. "It's not like I could ask you out on a date, or give you flowers."

"But I don't dislike flowers."

"…that's not my point."

"You could have kissed me any day."

"Yeah, yeah…" he's stubborn. He's stupid. Plenty of reasons. "I didn't…want to assume anything."

It's almost a fact that all Messiahs slept with each other. Or at the very least, were closer than just what "friendship" entails. It's pretty much encouraged, because hey, fucking begets intimacy, and intimacy breeds good partnerships, and for Sakura, Messiahs got their work done.

But fuck Sakura—this isn't for that. This isn't for what keeps him alive and feeds him. This isn't for paying his hospital bills and funding Haku's juiceboxes. They were fine before sleeping together, and they're fine now, and they will continue to still be fine.

It's just some things have changed.

Like Haku stroking the side of his neck until he wonders if this is cat a feels dozing in sunlight. His own hands trace useless patterns on Haku's back and shoulders, remembering them and how bones strain against muscle and skin and sharp exhalations when Haku says his name…

This is theirs.

"Eiri…"

"…Mm?" He's almost asleep at this point.

"You need…to buy more."

What, the jellybeans? "I bought enough to last a week."

"I'm going to finish by tomorrow."

"No, you're not. You're going to pace it, or else I'm never buying it."

Haku making sad puppy eyes at him, it seems, won't ever change. But neither will Eiri give up his glares and how his voice goes up a pitch when he scolds him.

It's almost the same as before, really, if not the scattered clothes and the fact they're both in the same bed.

He drifts off to sleep with Haku's breaths tickling his ear, and he hopes, just hopes, none of those alarms are set for the morning…

Or else he's going to hold off on buying candy. Seriously. Forever is a long time, and figuring themselves out will take just that long.

But it's good enough to know that they're fine, for now.

**_.end._**


End file.
